


Aletheia

by micehell



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, holiday fluff-ish in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-15
Updated: 2006-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon realized something he'd learned before, over and again, but had never been quite able to retain, the lesson always seeping away like water cupped in hands, always evaporating without him noticing.  Sometimes holidays weren't about faith, but rather about friends and family.  Sometimes you just needed to celebrate what you had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aletheia

It started as a trickle. It had just turned 3:00, but the afternoon sun was already bleeding away, giving ground to the streetlights starting to wobble their way on and the lights that flashed their holiday cheer from trees and windows and shop fronts everywhere. Morgan pushed Hotch out the door of his office, miming exaggerated effort as he said, "Studies show it's healthy to change things up in your life once in a while, man. So I'll be the workaholic who stays late doing paperwork, and you be the guy who shows the lady a good time. The change will do us both good."

Hotch ducked back around him, heading back into his office until Morgan called, "And maybe you'll get more than coal in your stocking this year." Hotch's years as a lawyer had given him the perfect poker face, always in control, just a little disapproving, just in case, but even from his own office, Gideon could see the look of guilt that washed over it before Hotch tamed it again.

It was less than fifteen minutes later when Gideon remembered what the sticky note message -- _buy more good stuff_ \-- that he'd put on his briefcase yesterday meant as he dropped a handful of M &Ms in a cup of break room coffee. He grimaced around the mouthful of too sweet and too bitter as he watched the elevator door close on one of Hotch's rare smiles, the thump of the doors cutting off his voice mid-"Make sure you-." Not that Morgan needed to hear the rest of it, which Hotch knew, but Morgan's amusement at the admonishment was easily read on the open book of his face. Gideon found himself grinning back at Morgan, a small part of him clinically noting the initiative the man had shown, saving it back for when evaluations rolled around, even as the larger part of him nodded his approval.

The trickle picked up when JJ and Emily made for the door at just a little shy of 4:00. It was full dark by then, or as fully dark as the city ever got, and Gideon nodded at them as they left. He bit back a warning about being careful, reminding himself that they were both armed, competent agents, and telling himself, once again, that what had happened to Elle had been an anomaly. The fading sound of their conversation -- something about a store they both wanted to go to and a laughing comment about whether they'd need to use their guns to get through the holiday crowds -- reached him before the door to the restroom clicked shut, and the need to get rid of the coffee he'd been drinking too much of drove him further into the room.

By 4:30 a steady stream of support staff started to flow through the halls, in ones and twos that turned into pools of people waiting for the elevator. The shuffle and clack of receding footsteps, the tinkling of a bell someone was wearing, the ebb and neap of excited voices that occasionally broke like a wave into laughter, all fell silent as the elevator doors closed, cut off from Gideon as he sat in his office, filling out paperwork that really could have waited.

The _click click_ from his keyboard was loud in the stillness left behind, and he found himself typing in rhythms, tapping out old Cole Porter melodies in _A-B-C_ percussion, the occasional rise of voices from the break room like a strange counterpoint. He heard a giggle, Garcia's voice, light and amused, accompanied by an octave lower laugh from Morgan, and he idly wondered what outrageous things they were saying to each other now.

His typing slowed, then stopped as he found himself listening for their voices. From the quality of the sound, he thought they were in the break room, just a little too far away to catch what they were saying, but close enough to hear that they were having fun. He wondered why they were still there. The colored lights that lit the city, the parties warm with seasonal good will and alcohol, friends and family that their jobs too frequently turned into strangers and acquaintances -- they should have called those two away long ago.

Realizing that he was about to start profiling their social behaviors, Gideon shook his head. He really should go home, even if there wasn't anyone there. It's not like he was going to be depressed about being alone on a holiday he didn't celebrate.

He heard Garcia's voice again, a question in the tone, but it was Reid's voice that answered. The part of Gideon that couldn't stop trying to solve puzzles said _Aha, so that's who he'd meant_. Reid had told Gideon that he was going out with someone after work, the statement half information, half query, his voice trailing up at the end in a tacit invitation for Gideon to come along. But Gideon hadn't wanted to intrude, wanting Reid to have a life outside of work, outside of him. He should have guessed Garcia was the someone, who, not subtle at the best of times, had apparently decided it was up to her to finally get Reid a social life. That horrible night with Nathan notwithstanding, Gideon thought she was doing okay. It was good for both of them, really, Reid's more cautious nature tempering her exuberance -- slightly -- and her sense of play dragging him, protesting -- slightly --, into fun of a less academic nature than he was used to.

There was another burst of laughter, streaming out into the hall, coming closer, and Gideon looked up to see Morgan walking backwards, his arms out wide to his sides, hands spread, gesturing with mock seriousness as he said, "Man, that is not how you kiss a pretty girl."

The others were following him, though walking forwards, Garcia wearing a Santa hat that had the tip wired to arc forward, a twig of mistletoe tacked at the end, and Reid wearing a smear of her lipstick on his lips and a blush high on his cheeks.

"Well, technically, she kissed me, and-"

But Morgan wasn't interested in technicalities. He stopped and pulled Garcia into a hug, saying to Reid, "This is how you kiss a pretty girl," before he dipped her backwards, stealing her startled intake of breath with a flourish of lips.

Gideon had to admit that Morgan certainly appeared to know what he was doing. They were outlined by the doorway of Gideon's office, like a still-frame from an old Ronald Coleman movie -- though he doubted that any of them would have known who Ronald Coleman was… though, with Reid, you could never tell -- and Garcia wasn't voicing any objections. She would have had had a fight of it to get it past Morgan's determined assault of her mouth, anyway, but the grip she had on his shoulders didn't look martial to Gideon in the least.

It probably wasn't that long a kiss, but it seemed slow, easing its way from exaggeration to sensuous, and Gideon was never quite sure if the noise he made in his throat was to remind them of where they were, or because he'd been enjoying the show a little too much. The open book of Morgan's face had embarrassment written in it, as well as shock and surprise. Garcia's face was shouting the same things, her blush flashing the message like a neon sign. But they both kept stealing glances at each other, new eyes taking in what they'd missed before. Gideon bit back his laugh at their surprise, tempted to tell them about the bet he had going with Hotch, but it was Christmas, and just because he didn't celebrate didn't mean he couldn't give them a little gift.

In between the furtive looks at Morgan, Garcia was giving Gideon that wide-eyed stare of hers, the one she used when she'd screwed up and her awe of him had started to edge into fear. Gideon gave her an easy smile, saying with his body language what would embarrass her if he put it into words. He really didn't care what they did as long as they kept it out of the job, so he added, "Get a room already," letting his amusement color his voice and set her at ease.

Morgan laughed, never having been afraid of him at the worst of times. Gideon was also pretty sure that Morgan had guessed that he had no room to object to anyone else having a relationship with coworker. "Hey, boss, what are you still doing here?"

"Apparently watching the making of _Federal Employees Gone Wild_."

Garcia's eyes got wider, which Gideon would have thought was an impossibility, and started to stammer out an apology, but Morgan touched her arm, shaking his head, and she relaxed, apparently willing to believe in his ease where she didn't trust Gideon's.

Reid had been watching, studying the byplay, and Gideon wanted to sigh. So much knowledge, but so little experience, and until Reid learned to interact rather than observe, that wasn't likely to change. An evening out with Garcia and Morgan would do him good. Their good natures would carry him along, wear away at his reserve, let him learn some social ease by mimicking, they way he should have as a child.

If they still wanted him along after what had just passed, anyway. Knowing he should leave it to Reid, but knowing how little good that would do, Gideon asked, "So you guys headed out?"

If Morgan had any plans to act on the kiss, he hid them well. "Yeah, we were just about to go. We've got a reservation at Casey's."

And there it was again, that rise on the end that was invitation. But Gideon didn't even have time to deflect it before Garcia was chiming in, direct where the other two hadn't been, "Hey, do you want to come? We've got a table, so they won't care if there're four instead of three."

Her expression had lost that hint of fear and was back to its normal happiness, and Gideon once again marveled at how adaptable she was. She was also far more perceptive than he tended to give her credit for, because she obviously saw his refusal before he made it, her voice taking on the wheedling tone that parents used to coax their children into eating their vegetables. "Come on, it'll be fun. We'll have good food, a couple of drinks. And we promise not to sing any Christmas carols. Well, not until after the fifth drink at least."

Gideon had used that same tone with his own son. He knew how to resist it. But Morgan, obviously far too influenced by Garcia already, added his own bit of persuasion. "Yeah, come on, Gideon. You've got nothing to do here that can't wait, and don't tell me you have a date with anyone more fun than us." He put one arm around Reid's shoulders, hugging him close, his free hand scrunching up the too serious face. "Look at this man. He's a fount of good cheer."

He didn't want to laugh at Reid, knowing he didn't always take it in the way it was meant, but the crazy tilt his glasses had taken was too much, and Gideon gave in. He still wasn't going to intrude, but it was good to see them having fun.

There was one more invitation, though, but when it came, it wasn't with Garcia's wheedling, or Morgan's joking. It was a tentative touch on his hand, a question that poured through those too appealing glasses, even tilted as they were, and where Gideon knew how to resist Garcia and how not to intrude on Morgan, he had no defenses against either that touch or that look. "Yeah, okay. Sounds like fun."

It was only later, listening to Garcia's drunken rendition of _Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer_ \-- they were on their sixth drink, so she had kept her word at least -- that Gideon realized something he'd learned before, over and again, but had never been quite able to retain, the lesson always seeping away like water cupped in hands, always evaporating without him noticing. Sometimes holidays weren't about faith, but rather about friends and family. Sometimes you just needed to celebrate what you had.

He could have been at home now, but instead he was in a too noisy restaurant showing Garcia his human face so that she would never be truly frightened of him again. He could have been reading that journal he'd meant to get to, but instead he was drinking over-priced beer, showing Morgan how important he was to Gideon, instead of letting him hear it out of someone else's mouth. He could have been home, alone, content with the knowledge that Reid was learning how to be easy in company, and instead he was here, trying not to laugh the beer out of his nose, re-learning that same thing.

Any day that ended with Hotch safe with his family, and JJ and Emily just enjoying themselves, and Morgan and Garcia waiting for a cab together, loose and happy and leaning against each other, was a good one. And any day that ended with a lesson in the proper way to kiss a pretty boy, flavored with beer and Reid, was a holiday. Maybe it was a matter of faith after all, only in what life gave you here and now rather than in what you might gain afterwards.

Morgan's voice interrupted his introspection, sounding as fuzzy as Gideon's thoughts. "Hey, Gideon." It trailed up on the end, but it was just an invitation to pay attention this time.

It brought Gideon back to an awareness of himself; Morgan's knowing smirk and Garcia's hiccuping giggle letting him know that he really had kissed Reid in public. Reid's hand was still warm in his, though, that thin body as fluid as the one beer he'd drank, leaning against Gideon as if he were the only steady thing in the world, and Gideon couldn't bring himself to care who had seen them. He'd do that later, when he was in the full throes of the hangover he was sure to have. Maybe not even then. "Yes?"

"Get a room, man."

As the cabs came up, four people with only two destinations, Gideon laughed and pushed Reid into theirs, winking back at Morgan as he did the same for Garcia. "Good idea."

Friends and family. Faith indeed.

/story

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The title is kind of a play on themes; Lethe, in Greek mythology, was the river of forgetfulness, while a _lethe_ ia means truth, literally un-forgetfulness. What with the liquid motif and Gideon's 'epiphany' -- ooh, and Christmas puns on top of everything else -- it was just too pun-ish to pass up. ;)


End file.
